


Correction

by AvaTaggart



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2018-08-22 16:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8291782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaTaggart/pseuds/AvaTaggart
Summary: It was supposed to be a summoning just like any other.It wasn't.





	1. Part 1: Dipper

**Author's Note:**

> Angst for the TAU Anniversary.

It was a fairly ordinary night in for the Pines family. Henry was out for the weekend at some kind of librarians’ convention, and Mabel was grocery shopping (and with seven people to feed and one of them a demon, long trips to the grocery store were common), which left Dipper and Stan to watch the kids.

So, naturally, they’d summoned Dipper to the physical plane with a bag of lollipops and were playing Monopoly.

Technically, Dipper was only the banker, because house rules said that no one with omniscience could have a pawn, but that rule said nothing about auctioning off hints or specified rolls of the dice to whoever offered the most candy in return.

One far-too-easily-purchased Park Place and a couple trips to Jail later and the game had devolved into more of a shouting-and-auctioning match with the occasional throw of the dice, but the kids weren’t running wild over the entire house, so Dipper considered it a success.

Of course, it wouldn’t have been a weekend night at the Pines house without a summoning.

Dipper groaned internally when the summons pulled him out of the room in the middle of dealing out $200 in fives to Stan (the fives had been Acacia’s request, backed by an ice cream Snickers from the freezer) and into yet another dark basement.

The summoning circle was tight, precise, drawn in blood – mostly pig, with a few drops of human mixed in. Handmade candles, beeswax with the barest hint of Yggdrasil– not enough to get him high, just enough to make his brain a bit fuzzy, knock him off his game some. The deer that had been the sacrifice lay on the ground in the middle of the circle, still-warm blood pooling from its neck.

Whoever had summoned Dipper was practically a professional, and as much as the amateurs were annoying, the ones who knew what they were doing were far more dangerous. Dipper began prodding the circle for weaknesses immediately, and launched into his standard opening with an extra bit of fury and fire.

“W̞̠̓̈͂̅ͮ͂͜H̸̠̰̻̞̘̋ͥ̓͒͂̚͟O̸̭̟̪͇͎ͮ̓̚͜ͅ ̷̮͈̦͓͗͒͗̂ͤ̿ͪ̆̎̕͞D̸͍͈ͤͣÄ̴͎͓̭͖̰̥̯̗̆̕R̸͍͙̼̰͛̈́ͨ͐̐̆͂̏̈E̷̜̰̟̪̪̭̠͚̒ͣͦ͗͌͒̚͠S̀ͧ͒̈ͬͨ̅ͩ͞҉̙̱͖͞ ̶̤̬̼̹͖̼͕̟ͨ́T͎͈̺̞̹̩̹̓̌̄ͤ̏͌͒͠O̶̱͔͎̝̝̓͊͊ͮ̓͝ ͎̜̳̱̥ͫͩͨ̏ͩͫ͐̀͘Ś͚̘̃U̴̟͖̳͙̥̭͈͊͋ͪ̈͋͑ͣ̓͘M̷̶̬̘̲̈̒́M̶̵̥͉̤͈͈͍̫͑̉O̶̜̺͑̓̽ͭŅ͔͈̯̣ͧ͂͋̓ ̜̠̪̥ͨ̕ -,”

“Dipper Pines,” came a voice from the shadows outside of the circle of candles, and Dipper felt the grip the summons had on him tighten exponentially with the use of his true name.

It hadn’t been twenty seconds and already this summoning was one of the bad ones.

Still, he could work with this. He’d gotten out of tighter situations before.

“Y̖̫̱̗̌͐͆̾̚o̘̻̠̗͔̞̰ụ̣̉̒̏͐ ̪̞͖̫͙d̩̒͒̚i̓̓d̰͖̈́n͍̝̓̐̓̂̓ͅ’͎̿t͍͛̆̉ ̂ͨã͔̘̣̫̗͑͗n̻͔̂̊͛s̬̗̠̲͓̓͗ͨ̌ͦ̄̋w̟̜̭̝͓ͩ̒ḙ̞̙ͦr̫͓̥̲̜̯̺ͮ ͍̭̼͔͂̀͑ͩ̊̔m̼ÿ̟͇̙̰ͪ ̗͛̿̓͐q̲̰̓ͦȕ̫̂̀e̠̣̩̠̪͓̞͌͐̏̂́s̼̆ͣ̿̄t̬i̥̼͑̋̌̾̇͌ͤo̞̯̊̉̐̆̈ͤ̚n̦̗̠̘̩̠͛,” he growled, filling his voice with power he wasn’t sure he could exercise. He’d be damned if he let the summoners—and there was more than one in the room, he could sense them—know they had him.

“Are you really in a position to be making demands right now?” the summoner asked, but he did step forward, into the gleam of the candlelight, so Dipper could see his face.

Dipper struggled not to react. The summoner was familiar, for sure, but not in the way he expected it to be, not someone from the New Canaan Church on the edge of town or one of the paranormal or demonology students who visited Gravity Falls. No, this was someone he’d known when he was still human, and only then.

“A͙̙̫̯͚̻g̻͚͙̠̖͖ͅe̼n̝t̟͍̤ ͓͙̹̣̼̤͓Pow͕̘͎̘̫ḛ͙̣̮̻̹r͇͕̮s̤͙,” Dipper purred. “To what do I owe the honor of being summoned by the U.S. Government?”

“And I thought demons were supposed to be omniscient,” Agent Powers said. He casually adjusted the cuff of his sleeve—he was wearing a black suit, not one of the hooded cloaks that seemed to be popular with cultists. “I was removed from my position years ago, right around the time Gravity Falls became the center of the Transcendence only weeks after we’d checked it for any supernatural activity.”

His voice was like an icy road, cold and dangerous. One wrong step, and . . . well, if Agent Powers knew Dipper’s True Name, there wasn’t really any limit to what he could do with that power.

“Sounds like you should’ve been paying more attention to the town,” Dipper said breezily. He was walking on thin ice, but there was only a slim chance that Powers knew his memories had been erased, and keeping up a confident image might be a greater help than taking the safe route for this conversation. He was desperate to not let them know how well they had him.

“It was a mistake, to be sure,” Powers said, voice stony. “One I’ll be correcting soon, I assure you.”

“Correcting?” Dipper asked.

“Listen, demon,” Powers said. “We’re going to be making a deal.”

“I can’t reverse the Transcendence,” Dipper cut in. “It’s too big an event, even with my power.”

“I assumed as much,” Powers said. “Every demon has their limits, it seems.”

Dipper internally sighed in relief.

“Except you.”

Dipper froze solid, except for his wings, which twitched ever so slightly. Powers kept talking.

“You alone, of all demons, seem to grow, to learn, to increase your own power. It’s true you can’t reverse the Transcendence _now_ , but given enough time . . .”

Dipper laughed, trying to hide the way it felt like his blood had frozen in his veins, even though he didn’t _really_ have either.

“How much time do you think you’ll have, Powers? It would take lifetimes for me to gain enough power to even begin affecting the Transcendence. That would be an incredibly expensive deal, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Powers said casually. “But, as you know, Dipper Pines—” and the grip the summoning had on him tightened again until it was hard to breathe, not that he needed to breathe but still—

“I know quite a bit about you, and I think I have the perfect thing to offer.”

“Oh? And what exactly would this offering be?”

Powers jerked his head, and the other agent—Trigger—came over from the corner where he’d been standing, forcing a person with a bag over their head in front of him.

The realization hit Dipper like a train even before the former agent ripped the bag off—it was in the clothes, the posture, the aura.

“Mabel,” he whispered.

His sister was bruising and bleeding from a cut on her forehead, a gag wet with what Dipper hoped was spit and not chemicals stuffed into her mouth, disoriented and blinking in the light of the candles. Her eyes found him, and she shot to attention.

Trigger pulled a knife out of nowhere and had it at her throat in an instant, and Dipper shot forward towards her only to smash into the walls of the summoning circle, still too strong for him to break.

“We will offer your sister’s continued life,” Powers said coldly.

“The terms you want?” Dipper hissed. Anything to save Mabel, anything to keep that knife away from her neck for five more seconds, for forever.

“You will erase all knowledge of yourself from the mortal plane,” Powers began. “All of your influences, all trace of you. Only Trigger and I will remember anything about you and retain our own personal references. You will retreat entirely to your realm and answer only to Trigger and myself. You will cause no harm to Trigger or to myself. You will concentrate all your efforts on strengthening yourself, and as soon as you are able, you will undo the Transcendence.”

“So you want me to—“ Dipper started to say, but Powers cut him off.

“ _I_ am the one setting the terms here, demon. You will accept my deal exactly the way I said it, or your sister will die.”

 _No_ , Mabel was mouthing, _No no no_. Even though she couldn’t speak, he could feel it through the link they shared. Mabel would rather die for him then see him a slave to the former agents.

There had to be a loophole, some way out of the contract, but Dipper couldn’t see it right now, couldn’t think beyond keeping Mabel safe, getting Trigger away from her. All his demon instincts were telling him was that the deal was unfair, weighted heavily in Powers’ favor, but _this was Mabel and there was no way he would do anything less than he could for her_.

He needed to know how to get out of it, how to rip them off, but the knife was cutting into Mabel’s throat and the first drop of blood was oozing out, and he could see Mabel flinch even though she tried not to and—

“Ỳ̯̬̱̘͇̗̣̟̬̘̃́̓̊̀Ő̳̺̭͍̈́̀̓ͪͩ̐ͦ̑̀U͎̟̪̪͍̣͍͇͕͇̮ͬ̏͂ͣͅ ͍͈̭̙̃ͩ͑͗͒͋̀H̦̰̗͉͇̀̔ͮ͑ͬ͂̽̆̉͂ͮ͊Á̘̞̜̭͚͉͔̲̟̽̋̐ͬ̆͆̌̂V̘̠̱̮ͬͤ͑ͨE̮͎͚̜͚̰̪͍̤͍̫̣̰̠̱̠͍̝ͯͫ͗̅ͪ̈́ͯ̑ͤͥ͛̒ͦͅ ̗̦̭̯̗̻͖̻͔͚̪̣̤͈̟̝̰̳̐͋ͭ̓ͬ̑̑̅̀ͦͦ͋A̱̱̟̥̼̗̺͙͕̳̲̹ͧ̄̿͛ ̬̟̭̝̱̟̞͔͈̣̮͖̼̪̭̑ͧ̾̏̚D̩̦͙̼͙̮̭̝̙̰̥̂ͧ̃ͪͧE͔̻̰͖͈̣͙̱̘̜͍̣̪͙̮̖̜͙͐̐͋̿ͯ̍ͦͅĂ͕̮̫͖̹͙̺̣̳̹̘̖̻̠̲ͬ͌̔ͬͬͩ͗̂ͦL͕̟̙̫̝̗̖͕̭̞̟̍̓͌͛ͭ̔̚ ͕̩͔̠̬,” Dipper roared, his hand bursting into searing flame. Powers reluctantly dipped his hand through the flame to shake Dipper’s, and Dipper was at least able to take some satisfaction in the burn marks that dotted Powers’ suit jacket where the flame had licked it. His deal fire couldn’t hurt those who shook his hand, but at least this was close.

Trigger pulled the knife away from Mabel’s throat, and she slumped forward. Dipper could see tears tracking down her face as she looked up at him, and the look of heartbreak on her face was almost unbearable. Dipper wanted to reach out to her, to reassure her it would be okay, to blow away the agents and destroy them so thoroughly it would be a thousand years before their souls came back, but—

“Don’t you have a deal to fulfil, demon?” Powers demanded.

Reluctantly, Dipper complied.

* * *

It was a good thing he was a dream demon, gifted when it came to dealing with the mind, or Dipper feared that carrying out the deal, removing all memories of himself, would have driven his family insane. The rest of the world was easy enough—to those who had heard of him, he was usually just a name, possibly a few more facts or a memory of a summoning. It was hardly anything to pull all those connections out of people’s brains.

But his family . . .

The thread of him was woven so intricately into their minds, twisting tightly against their most loved ones so closely that at times he feared that working himself out of the tangle would destroy something essential to them. Time wasn’t exactly real in the Mindscape, and several hours’ worth of work for Dipper was a fraction of a second to everyone else, as they forgot him in an instant, without even realizing.

Dipper had tried to fight the deal for as long as he could, struggling to find a loophole before it came to this, before he lost his handful of ties to humanity so totally, but there was none that he could see. Powers had been prepared for him, it seemed. Far more prepared than any other summoner had been. His wording was as close to airtight as a human’s could be, and while Dipepr knew he’d be able to find a loophole in it, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find it in time for it to be useful. What worth would a way out be two hundred years in the future, when everyone he loved would already be—

“Don’t think about it,” he hissed to himself, tugging a loose thread of Dipper-memories from Willow’s head. “You’ll get out of this, you always have. You can do this. You won’t lose them.”

He had to tell himself this, had to hold his mind together well enough that he could find the loopholes even as his heart was crumbling to pieces.

* * *

The second summoning from Powers wasn’t nearly as fancy as the first had been—a neat but plain chalk circle with a messy roadkill thrown into the middle.

It didn’t have to be nice anymore. Powers had Dipper trapped in their deal, bound to his own will. Dipper had no choice but to show up, no matter how garbage the circle was.

Dipper didn’t bother with a greeting this time. Powers didn’t either.

“You’ve erased yourself,” he said. It wasn’t a question. He didn’t need an answer.

“Your end of the deal isn’t fulfilled yet,” Powers said.

“Of course,” Dipper spat. “I still have to undo the Transcendence, the biggest event on the face of the planet to ever happen.”

Powers glared.

“My sources indicate that you were present for the Transcendence,” Powers said. “Since you’ve got nothing else to do, I want to know what happened, what caused this.”

“Sorry,” Dipper singsonged. “Our deal didn’t say _anything_ about me providing you with information. If you want to know what I know, you’re gonna have to make another deal.” He flashed his fangs in a predatory grin.

“You ought to remember who you’re dealing with, _Dipper Pines_ ,” Powers spat. “Trigger and I are your only connections to the physical plane, and you _will_ answer to us. Otherwise, I’m sure you may find us quite . . . disagreeable.”

“Yeah, disagreeable,” Trigger said, not-so-subtly resting a hand on the gun on his hip.

“As if that would hurt me!” Dipper gloated. “Go ahead and try, tough guy!”

“Now, who never said anything about using this on _you_?” Powers smirked. Dipper felt his face pale.

“It’s in the deal that Mabel will live,” Dipper hissed, his human appearance flaking away to show black bricks with brilliant gold light shining from between them. “If you kill her, the deal will be o͔͕̲̹̖̟̓ͨ͆̿̐̏f̰̹̦̜̔ͅf̯͎ͭͫͪ̽ͪ̀ͩ and I will take the greatest pleasure in ripping your ẉ͆̌ͬ̒̄̚e͈͓͉̲̘͕͌a͉̮͇̗̥̠̔͊ͣͦͪk̖̙ͣ ͉̰̾͆̾ͥͥ͒ͅh̝͑́̓͗̎̽ụ̣̊ͩ̐ͬͮ̅ͧm̺̻̖̩̑̏̄͋a͛͗̾̽̾n̞̭ͭ̊͂ ̜͙ͥ͐͂b̗̻̪̀͌͑͗ͬͧ̚oͩ̓̃̚d͔͕ͪͫͨ̒i̒̉e̝̩̮̙̣ͥ͑̑s̮̦̩͇̞̜̏̔̉̈́͐̊ͥ ̯̩̐a͔̬͔̟͌͑̊p̹ͫ͆̋̿ͪͬa͉͇͓͇̔ͭ̄̉̍r̖͚̄̆t ͍͖̤̳̩̘̘ͪ̅̈ͯ̔̔̽f͉͓̮̦͉͙̒o̯͖̹̪̽̊͂ͪ̎ͥ̒ŕ̆̆̍̆ ̫̳̞ͭ̏ͩt͉̜͔̝̩ͭ̍̃͛ͭḥ̲ͪ̋͂̓ͬ̀e̘̪̒̈̃͐̚ṋ̦̣̱̙͙͙̩͔̬̰̳͚̹͕̫̆͛̇̽̓̈́͆ͧ̅͐ͪe̤͈̠̰̥̜͉̝̭̯̻̹͎̻̦̋͊̎̔͋ͫ̈ͅẋ͇͓̣͉̠̗͙̃̋͂ͪ̈́̈̾ͨt͕̦͕͓̪̱͕̟̦̙͚͉͈̆ͭͨͧ͂͗ ̯͇̩͉͙̗̥̼ͪ̈ͨ̆̿̊̆̽ͦ̐ͨ̉̾͂̌̄̉ͅh̟̣̤̗̻̥̫̥̦͙̣ͭͣ͛̊̃̌ͭͫ͊̌͑ǔ̙͎͓̜͔̇͗̉̓͊̇ͣň̮͚̠͍̟͈͉̯̬̪̅̎͑ͦͅd̩̩̣̪͓̹̋͐ͮ̈̋̔̊ͦ͆̀̂̔̀͊̏͂r͔͇̻̲̞̲͚͖͔͙̠̮͕̯̪̦ͫ͛̏͐ͧ̊̎̔͗̊̏̓ͬ̚e̖̳̱̗̜͓̠̮̓̉̿͗̆͂ͣ̆̍͛̔̿͋̿̈͂͒͑d͔̫̘̘̳̱̽͌̐̉ͭ̐̑ ̻̻̫͈̯̺̗̭̝̬̲̜͔͈̪͔ͨ͐̋̌͐͊ͩ̽̃͊y̺̩̩̦͍̪̣̹̩̤̯͈̖̱͖̝̻̼͋̓͋̈ͫͪ̈́̇̋e̞̮͔̜ͨ͂̒ͦ̑ͦ̉͐ả̤̼͉̱̹͚͍̽ͮ̉̿ͥ͂ͯͨ̓ͯ̓̓̈̌̑ř͙̥̭̠̂̃ͤ̾̓̅̅̃̒s̬̖̬͚̲͔̺̤͇͔̞̱̺̹̗̃̌̽ͮ̀ͅ!”

“Oh, your sister will survive,” Powers said, not even the slightest bit phased by Dipper’s gradual transformation into his more demonic appearance. “But those children of hers? Your uncle? They weren’t in the deal, now were they?”

“Definitely not, sir,” Trigger answered. “We owe them no protection under our terms.”

Dipper tried not to let his terror show on his face, but he could see it all too easily: Trigger, showing up at the triplet’s school during recess, or after school let out, or even as they walked home from school. All it would take is a moment, a finger on the trigger, and one of his stars would be _gone_.

“An addition to our deal,” Dipper choked out. “I will give you information in exchange for the protection of the triplets, and Henry, and Stan.”

“You will offer us true information relevant to the questions we ask when we ask for it, and within the confines of what our human minds can handle,” Powers countered. “In return, we will not intentionally harm Acacia, Willow, Hank, Henry, or Stan Pines.”

It wasn’t a good deal, but it was something he could do to keep the rest of his family safe, the only thing he could do.

“D̺̗͉͇͕͔͌́̇̅̾̒ͨͧë͓͚̭͛̅̉ả̻̹̞̲̗͎̼̮͙ͭͬͭ̓̐l̙̰̬͍̥̋ͨ̾,” he hissed, and Powers took his flaming hand without hesitation.

* * *

There was something Mabel Pines was forgetting.

She looked down at her shopping list, having spaced out for a second. Eggs, milk, five pounds raw steak (that didn’t seem right, unless Henry was planning ahead, but it _was_ on sale so she rolled with it). A head of lettuce, some chocolate bars, two boxes of Frooty Loopers (the kids went through those fast, and so did . . .)

It seemed like there was something Mabel really ought to remember, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t quite reach it. It was like a word caught on the tip of her tongue, almost there but just far enough away to be unreachable.

Well, if it was _that_ important, she’d remember it sooner or later.


	2. Part 2: Willow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff  
> Yea so this is finished finally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not in the Transcendence AU fandom anymore! I'm not coming back to the fandom!  
> I just had half this already written and wanted to cross one WIP off the list, and resolve this diabolical cliffhanger.

Willow had always remembered her dreams perfectly. The details, the words, the settings—some people lost everything but the gist of their dreams when they woke up, but not Willow.

So when she woke up from the third night in a row with the remnants of her dream just barely on the edge of her mind, already melting away like snowflakes in the palm of her too-hot hands, she knew something was very, very wrong.

She could remember color, even though she usually dreamed in grayscale; flashes of yellow? No, golden stars. And there had been someone there, a man that seemed so familiar in her dreams even though she knew she hadn’t met him in person.

Willow was no stranger to things outside of the ordinary, having the Sight and all, but she had no idea what this was.

On the bright side, she _did_ live just above one of the world’s most comprehensive libraries of the supernatural. She ought to spend some time reading, figure out what was happening to her dreams.

And the sooner, the better. Last night’s dream, though she couldn’t remember the details, left an ominous feeling that lingered even after Willow woke up.

* * *

The library, for the first time Willow could remember, had nothing helpful.

She’d scoured the section on dreams twice over, then gone to her dad for help finding all the books that might be related. The closest she’d gotten to anything helpful was a book on demons with powers over the mind, but none of the demons listed seemed to have the power or scope of influence to do something like change her dreams, or make her forget them. And there were blank pages throughout, so Willow wasn’t sure she trusted what information there _was_ in the book, if the copy editors didn’t catch a total of forty-seven totally blank pages.

Her mom made her a dream journal, so she could try remembering her dreams better, and a dreamcatcher with a half-dozen enchantments on it, to keep any nasties away. Willow was thankful, but she also doubted they would help. Nothing strong enough to erase her memories was weak enough to be caught in a dreamcatcher, even one so heavily enchanted, and she was certain there was a supernatural force behind it.

Acacia offered to stay up and watch Willow sleep, to see if she could see whatever it was come in, and scare it off with the brass knuckles G-Grunkle Stan had given her and the triplets’ last birthday, but she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary happen. Hank had asked around at school, in case anyone else had heard of something similar, but came up empty-handed.

Willow was on her own for this. She’d just have to figure out what these missing dreams, and the strangely familiar man that seemed to appear in all of them, meant for herself.

* * *

She used the dream journal to write down the details she managed to recall in the moments after she woke up, catching them on paper to look after them later. For the first few days, it was all small things: the man in the dreams had brown hair, the two of them were somewhere grey, he said the word ‘Fighter’.

After she caught one word, it seemed she’d get one or two every night. On their own, they were nonsense, but together, they spelled out a clear message:

THE

NEW

MAN IN

TOWN

IS

BAD

TRICKY

EVIL

TALK TO

HIM

SCARE HIM

AND

FREE

ME

Downright ominous, Willow thought. Whoever was in her dreams was trapped, and could only speak to her through dreams. At least, that’s what it seemed like, and Willow could feel his desperation in her dreams, could see it in all its teal-magenta-tangerine vividness. Even if Willow couldn’t free him, he thought she could, and he wouldn’t leave her alone until she tried.

She knew who the new man in town was, had seen him at the supermarket before—a lot, actually. He’d once helped her mom get something off the top shelf. He’d been into the library before, too. He was in his early forties, she figured, his light brown hair showing streaks of grey. He didn’t seem like the sort of person to be evil.

But then again, truly evil people never seemed it.

The least she could do would be to check the dream-man’s accusations out, to see if the new man in town was up to anything nefarious. But this was where she stopped doing things on her own. No, if she was going to be confronting a potentially dangerous stranger, there was no way she was going alone, and she knew just the people for the job.

Maybe Acacia would get to put those brass knuckles to use after all.

* * *

The triplets showed up at the new man in town’s house early Saturday morning. Hank had been able to find the man’s address, and his name, and Willow didn’t know how other people managed to get things done without siblings willing to help.

The man’s name was Jeffrey Rise, and he’d moved to town a few months ago for no apparent reason. He had no family in town, no job, and rarely socialized or went into town to do more than buy groceries. If he was really just a shut-in, that would be fine, but given that he was a shut-in that had been visiting the Stanley Pines Memorial Library of the Supernatural, the possibility that he was doing something sinister was frighteningly high.

The three of them had come prepared for a fight: Acacia with her brass knuckles, Hank with their mom’s bat hidden in a poster tube, and Willow with a flask of holy water and a few other things that Aunt Wendy had left behind at the house when she visited a month ago.

Willow just hoped it would be enough to free the man who had told her to come.

She steadfastly ignored the way her hand was shaking a little as she reached out and pressed the doorbell.

There was shuffling behind the door, and a very confused-looking Mr. Rise opened the door a moment after. Willow got the deepest reading she could of his emotions without making it obvious she was staring: there was confusion, yes, but also hostility, and the tiniest bit of worry so strong it was more like bone-chilling fear.

No doubt about it, something well out of the ordinary and most likely sinister was going on here.

“Hello?” Mr. Rise said, making it more of a question. “What do you kids want?”

“Hello sir, my name’s Hank, and these are my sisters Acacia and Willow. We’ve got a school project to get to know someone in the community that we don’t know well. Would it be ok if we asked a few questions?” Hank said, holding out a sheet of paper he’d printed up that morning with a few innocent questions on it. Mr. Rise took a second to read over the paper before he pushed the door open further.

“Seems okay to me,” he said. “Might as well come in instead of doing this on the doorstep.”

“Thank you, sir,” Acacia said, and the triplets filed into the house. The man’s worry seemed to have died down, and though he was a bit irritated, he didn’t seem to be suspicious of the triplets any longer.

Hank started right in on asking questions, favorite color and such, and Willow alternated between watching the man’s emotions and looking around the room for anything suspicious. Acacia, behind the man, was scouring a bookshelf, occasionally pulling out a certain book with incredible silence and showing it to Willow—the man had supernatural texts that even the library didn’t have, on demons and rituals Willow was entirely unfamiliar with. If anyone could bind someone to another person’s dreams, Mr. Rise seemed a likely fit.

Willow found herself turning her attention entirely to Mr. Rise as Hank got into some of the harder questions they came up with, some things about where he lived before and why he came to Gravity Falls. His answers came easily enough, that he was a writer working on a book about the Transcendence and came here for research, but Willow could tell he was lying. What’s more, he was beginning to panic; he did a fantastic job acting stoic and unbothered, but his aura gave him away.

Acacia gave Willow a thumbs-up, signaling that she hadn’t found any supernatural weapons or traps in the room, and Hank was coming to the end of his questions. It was time to move on to the second phase of the plan. Willow nodded to her sister, who caught Hank’s eye and signaled him to stop asking his questions.

“You have an awful lot of practical and applied ritual books for someone merely writing about the supernatural,” Acacia said.

“Yes, well, I want to make my books as authentic as possible,” Mr. Rise said, nerves edging into his tone.

“I’m pretty sure ‘True Names and Other High-Intensity Demonic Bindings’ didn’t have much to do with the Transcendence,” Acacia said, holding up the mentioned tome. “People only really started figuring out how demons worked a few years after, y’know?”

“Yes, but demons still followed those rules at the time of the Transcendence— _most of them, anyways_ ,” he said, muttering the last bit.

“Mr. Rise, you wouldn’t happen to be putting any of these books to _practical_ use, would you?” Willow asked, hand on Aunt Wendy’s taser in her bookbag.

“Of course not!” Mr. Rise cried.

“He’s lying,” Willow confirmed for her siblings, who pulled out their own weapons as Willow brandished the taser.

“W-what do you kids think you’re doing?” Mr. Rise cried, fumbling in the couch cushions before his face suddenly went pale, fear spiking out of nowhere. Willow stepped forward, deciding to capitalize on it.

“I have it on good authority you’re keeping someone trapped,” Willow said. “So you have two choices. Set him free, or things are gonna get _ugly_.”

Mr. Rise scowled.

“You’re _children_. You really think the three of you stand a chance against me? You should get out of here before either of us does something we regret.”

His tone was absolutely terrifying, but Willow could see the worry in his aura, how he hoped they’d take the bluff. For whatever reason, he couldn’t hurt them. Willow nodded at Acacia, who leveled a brutal punch at Mr. Rise’s stomach that left him doubled over and out of breath. Hank activated the charm on their mom’s bat that made the hidden spikes appear, and held it a few inches from Mr. Rise’s face, the threat clear: brass knuckles were the _least_ they had to offer.

Mr. Rise chuckled darkly.

“You really want me to ‘free’ the person you think I’m trapping? I’m keeping him _contained_ to reduce the amount of _damage_ he does, the number of _lives he claims_ and _souls he eats_ ,” Mr. Rise says. “I can free him, if you want it so desperately, but I doubt any of us in the room, maybe anyone in the whole town, will survive.”

The threat is terrifying, and Willow can see Hank lower the bat slightly, and Acacia looks towards her, questioning whether they should go forward.

But this is a bluff. Willow can see it in the man’s aura.

“Go ahead, then,” she says. “Today’s as good a day as any other to die, I think.”

* * *

Mr. Rise, if that’s even his real name, takes an hour to draw the summoning circle. It’s like none Willow has seen before, and yet, it’s strangely familiar in some kind of déjà vu way. She’s sure he’s taking longer than he needs to, but doesn’t dare to jeopardize the creation of the circle just in case Mr. Rise is right about how dangerous the man—the _demon_ —he’s trapping is.

Finally, the circle is done, and Mr. Rise mutters a simple incantation in Latin. The circle flares to life, glowing with golden light so bright Willow’s almost tempted to look away.

But she doesn’t, and the light dies out in a flash, leaving a mostly-human looking man in the middle of the circle. Willow recognizes him as the man from her dreams, and it’s almost impossible to tell he’s a demon except for his eyes, glowing gold on infinite black.

He looks at her, and smiles, and _oh_ , he’s got sharp teeth, too. Rows and rows of them.

Willow is second-guessing freeing the man, but she has to give him a shot. She’s come this far, she might as well see it through.

“Why were you in my dreams?” she asks, and the man’s smile saddens.

“That’s right, you still don’t remember me,” he says. “Trigger here-“ he snarls at Mr. Rise, or is it Mr. Trigger? “-and his partner made me erase all trace of myself from the mortal plane. When he breaks the deal he’s keeping me in, I’ll make sure you remember everything, but to keep it short: I’m your parents’ best friend, to put it lightly. Willow, I showed up in your dreams specifically because I saved your life twice before, and that tie meant you were the only one to remember my visits.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll break our deal, _demon_ ,” Trigger hissed. “We spent _years_ working on that deal, and finding you true name. I won’t let it all go to waste just because of a few threats!”

The man in the summoning circle looks away from Trigger, seemingly bored, and smirks at Willow.

“I think I know something that’ll spook him,” he says. “Come here, I’ll tell you.”

“No offense, but I definitely don’t trust you enough to risk breaking the circle,” Willow says.

“Smart girl,” the man says. “I’ll say it from here, then: light your hands on fire.”

“What?!” Willow demands, Hank and Acacia joining in.

“Not, like, with gasoline and a match,” the man clarifies. “Just… _do it_.”

And under any other circumstances, Willow would walk away then and there, but there have been so many weird events leading up to this, and the magic energy in the room is restless, and he palms feel hotter than she can ever remember them feeling, and—

Willow’s hands are ablaze with blue flames, crackling with heat and magic alike, and Trigger looks like his soul has just left his body.

“What is this? What the _hell_ is this?” he demands, looking back and forth between Willow’s hands and the circle, where the man is laughing.

And if the man, demon or not, knew something about Willow that not even she herself ~~knew~~ remembered, then she _had_ to give him a chance.

In two quick strides, she was in Trigger’s face, and grabbed the collar of his shirt, scorching it with heat as the flames dances inches from his eyes.

“Break the deal,” she demanded.

“A-alright. Alright! Just please don’t hurt me!” Trigger cried. “Alcor, I break my deals with you!”

There was a noise like a shattering chandelier from the circle, and a hand on Willow’s shoulder. She turned and saw the man from the circle, golden tears building at the edges of his eyes.

The memories hit Willow’s mind like a tidal wave, overwhelming and then settling down. The man that had been so thoroughly erased form their lives was her _uncle_ , and she could remember him teaching her how to block out other people’s auras, watching movies with them and flicking popcorn at the screen during the cheesy parts, _saving her life_ …

“Thank you,” he says, his voice so quiet she can barely hear it.

“Of course,” she whispers back. “This is what family is for!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna see more of my writings on demons check out my Bendy and the Ink Machine fics, cause I am yeeting straight back out of TAU after this.


End file.
